calmer waters

I’ve read a piece of writing advice a few times in a few different places recently: you shouldn’t write about something whilst you’re still going through it.

After harbouring a (not so) secret dream of becoming a dating columnist for gosh-knows-how-long, and after spending the last almost five years single and doing a lot of dating, it almost seems stupid that now, at this moment in time, I would decide to start writing about dating, when I am doing precisely… none of it.

Maybe that advice is onto something. Now that I’m not knee deep in it, wading through the bullshit ocean that is dating in 2018, I feel like I can reflect upon it. Really, I should have been writing about it all this time. Since my big heartbreak (I know, yawn), I’ve acquired tales of blind dates, Tinder dates, dating my friend’s friends, dating my own friends. Amazing dates, terrible dates and a whole load of mediocre ones too.

I’m the most single I’ve been in, well forever. You might think that there’s single and there’s in a relationship, but there really are fifty shades of complicated in between, and I’ve been madly trying to find that elusive spark with someone for a long time now. I still haven’t found it – at least not a long lasting one – and I’m kinda tired. I’m tired of the emotional rollercoaster I put myself through. I build up my hopes unattainably high and then struggle to pick myself up from the self-esteem blow when they are inevitably not met. I try to force emotionally unavailable men into an availability that due to location, or timing, or sometimes just their personality, does not exist. I. Am. Tired. Of. It.

I’ve deleted all trace of myself from all dating apps. I’ve stopped asking friends if they have anyone that they can set me up with. I am actively trying (and it’s really, really hard) not to imagine a date, a sleepover, a mini-break, a holiday, a wedding… with every attractive man I come into contact with. Call it crazy if you wish, I call it being a total, and sometimes totally flooring, romantic.

To continue with the (somewhat tenuous) water analogies, I’m starting to sail on calmer waters. I’m not out there surfing, trying to catch my next big wave. I’m sitting on my sun lounger, attempting to be content. Only when I am completely and totally happy being here, being myself, for myself, will I step back out there into the ocean.